“Aah!” he yelped, stumbling backwards and out of sight.

Chase pulled herself up through the window. She set her feet down in the projection room and looked around. Aside from the unconscious theater workers, the room was empty. The door had been flung open in a hurry, still swinging on its hinges. Johnson had made a break for it.

The projector was still running the movie, reels clicking rhythmically as they spun. Metal shelves stuffed with film cans lined the walls, and there was a desk in the corner with a computer.

A grunt behind her made Chase turn around. There was Holt, climbing back into the projection room. The gun had returned to his hand. She was hoping he wouldn't find it so quickly.

The only thing to do was to separate him from it again. She grabbed a film can and hurled it like a frisbee. It hit its target dead-on, knocking the gun out of his hand and out the window to the floor far below.

The man clenched his teeth and drew his nightstick. “You know all kinds of weird tricks, don't you, cannibal?”

Chase looked around for a weapon of her own. She found one on a nearby shelf: an empty film reel.

Its twin edges looked more than sharp enough to cut. She picked up the reel and tested its weight and balance. She twirled it showily on her fingers and struck a fighting stance.

“Am know more tricks than you know yet,” she coolly replied. For someone who had only been speaking English for about three days, it was an acceptable comeback.

The cop attacked first, swinging his nightstick in huge, heavy arcs. His anger mixed with his natural muscle put an almost unearthly strength behind his blows, to the extent that Chase could only hope to dodge rather than block them. When she ducked under one blow, the stick whistled over her head and punched a dent in one of the shelves. She knew if that had been her head, the weapon would have fractured her skull.

But this dynamic assault left some glaring openings in his defense. Every time Holt reared back for another strike or missed her with a mighty whiff, he left himself wide open for the smaller, faster fighter's counter attack. It was child's play for her to dodge around one of his ungainly swings and slash with the film reel. The shirt of his uniform burst open, revealing his stomach, on which her swipe had carved two bright red parallel lines.

Holt stopped, too shocked to cry out. He looked at the reel, dripping with blood, then down at his stomach. The lines grew redder. Blood began to drip from them, then to pour. His abs looked like a dam getting ready to burst.

Chase decided to help things along. She made another quick cut, then jammed her hand into the wound.

He recovered from his shock. “AAAAIIGHHEEE!” he screamed.

Her hand closed on something, then she extracted it. Clutched in her fist was a coil of intestine.

“Oh my god! Oh my god!” he screamed.

The projector kept rolling, oblivious to the scene of violence playing out around it. Calmly and efficiently, she cut the coil, making two ends from it. Then, she threaded one of the ends into the projector.

“ARARAARRRGAGHHHH!” The man thrashed violently as the machine wound his intestines onto its reels, unspooling them from his body foot by foot. By the time Chase's homemade movie went into its third act, he sank to the floor, and his screams sank to a whisper before sputtering into silence.

“Oh damn,” said a voice.

She turned around. There was Delgado, standing in the doorway Johnson had fled through. The grisly display forced itself upon his eyes. He staggered backwards, mouth wide in horror. “Oh damn. Oh damn. Screw this, I'm outta here!” He turned and ran, with Chase hot on his heels.

She found herself back out in the lobby. No one was there, not even the theater employees. The whole place had apparently been completely evacuated.

In a matter of moments, Chase chased the cop down and tackled him to the short carpet. He jammed an elbow to her face in response and shoved the lightweight girl off. The pretty colors of the concession stand loomed overhead.

Slightly dazed and raising her fingers to her face to check for a nosebleed, the mountain girl rose to her feet while the cop rolled over onto his back. He successfully fumbled for his mace, but she regained her senses in time to kick it out of his hands.

Bending down, she picked him up by his shirt and rammed his head through the transparent front of the stand. The sound of breaking glass rang out daintily in the empty lobby. Chocolate bars and rattling pouches of fruit candy went flying.

Delgado had closed his eyes as part of the process of bracing himself for the impact. As he reopened them, he felt tiny flecks of glass slide off his eyelids, tinkling as they joined their friends on the base of the shelf.

The blood-spattered high schooler was an intimidating sight as she towered over him. In all his years on the force, Delgado had never been so scared in his life. Who knew what sort of torturous death she had planned for him. “Please.” he begged her. Delgado was not ordinarily a begging man. “Don't kill me.”

Her response was unexpected. “You lur jic choc?”

Delgado's fear partially gave way to confusion. “Uh... are you asking me if I'm allergic to chocolate? No. No, I'm not.”

“You lur jic nug nug?”

“Nug what?” he asked.

She looked around at the strewn candy, then crouched, picked up one of the bars and pointed at the word. He read it. “You mean nougat. That's like, nuts, right? Yeah, I'm allergic to that.”

So she unwrapped the bar and jammed it in his mouth.

..........

“One two... up!” called Alicia.

On the word 'up', three cheerleaders who acted as bases for support boosted her, Victoria and Chase into the air.

Chase felt very good as she rose into the air. It was the day after she made the squad, and the excited glow the good news had given her still hadn't worn off. Her disappointment at missing the second half of Muscle Marty, as well as the unsightly vision of Delgado's face breaking out in fatal hives, were completely forgotten.

Also, she was happy to be practicing outdoors. It was much nicer to be out here on the fresh, green football field than in the gym. She always felt more comfortable the closer she was to nature. From her lofty position, she had a good view of the boys on the football team, who were running drills over on the other end of the field.

The three fliers each lifted a leg up high over their heads, clutching the arches of their shoes. They held this pose for a second, then were tossed into the air, where they twisted showily and flopped down into their squadmates' arms. This concluded the last step of the routine.

“Alright!” cheered Alicia as her feet were set down on the grass. “That was really good, you guys! Great energy, Caitlin! Your tuck was much tighter that time, Kristen! Nice job, everybody! I think that routine's definitely ready for Friday's game.”

Not if Victoria had anything to sigh about it. She gave the dismayed exhale which the entire squad had come to dread, pairing it with a head shake this time. “No, no, no. I'm sorry, but it was all wrong.”

Alicia's smile snagged on this comment, but she pulled it free and kept going. “O-oh? You think so, Victoria? What do you think we should change? We all want to hear your input.”

Victoria sounded weary. “I should hope so, considering I'm the only one here qualified to give any. Melissa J., you brought your legs down on your cartwheel too early. Rebecca, your daggers were languid. And Chase...” she gave a 'goodness... where to even START' pause, then continued, “Never, in all my years of cheerleading, have I seen such a miserable, hackneyed display of poor timing and utterly botched stunts. From the advanced techniques all the way down to the fundamentals, your performance was flawed in ways too numerous to name.”

Chase was crestfallen. “I didn't see any problems with it,” said Caitlin hotly.

Victoria looked at her, and sniffed. “Of course YOU wouldn't.” She put one hand on her hip, and with her other hand, rested her fingertips on the top of her sternum. This was a gesture she liked to use whenever she thought people could be paying more attention to her voice box, and wanted to point at it without anyone thinking that was what she was trying to do. “I'M speaking from the position of years of experience, and I know what I saw.”

“Hey guys, sorry I'm late,” said Lindsey, skirt fluttering as she walked briskly over. Chase was again reminded that she was the only one practicing in shorts and a t-shirt. Alicia assured her they already ordered her uniform and it would arrive in time for the big game... but she needed it right away. Victoria's meanness was making her feel less and less like a real part of the team. “So, what'd I miss?”

“How about we don't tell you what you missed, and YOU don't tell us what WE missed, and we call it even?” compromised Caitlin.

But it was too late. “Okay, you guys have to hear this. Tommy Richards? The BEST kisser. I don't know where he—”

“YOU didn't miss much,” Victoria curtly interrupted. “Alicia and I were just finishing up a discussion of Chase's performance. Or rather, her lack thereof.” She cleared her throat and turned her attention back to the squad as a whole. “In conclusion, I think it would be best if we let her go.”

The cheerleaders all gasped in horror. Victoria sympathized with them deeply, and to make sure they knew it, she clutched a dramatic hand to her heart. “Oh, I know. Trust me, I know.” Her voice cracked with emotion. “It pains me very deeply to say this, especially about a girl who I had such VERY high hopes for. Believe me when I say that no one wanted her on the squad more than me. However, if we can set our emotions aside, if we think rationally about what's best for the squad, I think we can all agree—”

“Let Chase go where?” interrupted Chase, bubbling over with excitement. “To game?! To cheer camp?!”

Lindsey scowled “She means she wants to kick you off the team.”

“...Which definitely isn't happening,” added Alicia. “Sorry, Victoria. But I think Chase is doing just fine, especially for a beginner! She's a valuable asset to this squad moving forward!”

Victoria frowned. “We don't need someone who's good for a beginner, Alicia. Somebody who's GOING to be good EVENTUALLY. We need somebody who can replace Melissa C. right now!”

Alicia shook her head. “I disagree, Victoria.” She smiled placatingly. “You know, a lot of people would say that a team is only as strong as its weakest player.”

“A valid and sensible position,” Victoria stubbornly chimed in, crossing her arms.

The redhead rolled on, not hearing her. “Me though, I say a team is only as WEAK as its STRONGEST player!”

There was a long silence as everyone pondered this. Including Alicia. Finally, Victoria spoke. “...What's that supposed to mean?”

Alicia was relieved. She didn't know what it meant, but she definitely knew what it was supposed to mean, at least. “My point is that Chase is an important member of this squad now! What kind of teammates would we be if we just abandoned her? What kind of school spirit is that?” She was addressing the whole group now. “If she needs improvements, so what? We all do! That's one of the primary functions of the squad, to help each other be the best we can be!”

The other cheerleaders voiced their agreements. Outnumbered once again, Victoria sort of grumbled a: “You know, you're right. What was I thinking?”

Alicia crossed an arm across her lower ribs, rested her other elbow on her wrist, and tapped a finger thoughtfully against her lips. “Although... I do think we should change you to a base instead of a flier, Chase. Not that I don't think you can do it, but it's just, you're pretty strong. I think your strength would be best utilized as a base. Are you okay with that?”

Chase shrugged and gave a boyish smile. “No care. Happy as long as cheer.”

“We still need a flier to replace Melissa C., though,” said Brittany.

“I can fly,” volunteered Lindsey.

Alicia nodded. “Alright, it's settled then! Let's move on.”

This gave Victoria a devious idea. An idea to get Chase kicked off the squad once and for all. It was brutishly unsubtle, insanely reckless, and needlessly cruel. Overall, she was very proud of it. Just as she began working out the details, her train of thought was derailed by a football clobbering her in the face.